Blossoms in Her Hair
by Deadlyflames
Summary: Hades and Persephone AU. Pitch Black is the Nightmare King, isolated and loathed by all other immortals. Anna is a young and vivacious little spring spirit, charming enough to beguile even the darkest of souls. What else can a king do but crumble?


_"I loved a maid as bright as spring, with blossoms in her hair_

 _I loved her fierce, I loved her true, we were doomed; we did not care_

 _The hands of time would take from me, even she was not to spare_

 _In the whispers of my dreams, I still see my maiden fair." Leonard Snow, The Seasons of My Love_

The wails of frightened children echoed through the little village, blending together like a lovely haunting symphony. The Nightmare King smiled as he moved through the shadows, listening to the melody of horror that he left in his wake. It had been a fulfilling night, with each child he encountered becoming inconsolable with fear. Strength and power pulsed through him and his skin hummed with untapped energy. Pitch was thankful for this impoverished little town, full of frail and starving children who possessed strong and ravenous fears. He hadn't felt quite so rejuvenated in years.

The ominous and elegant figure moved through the forest that surrounded the tiny northern town, casting a heavy darkness upon the world. With the terror he had consumed that night, his shadows were strong enough to nearly blot out the light of the moon. He smirked upwards at the small silver sphere that hung above his head, so far away and yet always within his eyesight. He wondered what the Man in the Moon thought on nights like this when Pitch would torment the children with night terrors and horrible apparitions. When Pitch became stronger through the misery of the humans that the Guardians were failing to protect. Though, the power he had acquired tonight was a mere skeleton of what he once held. It still was enjoyable, knowing he had thrived while the Man in the Moon wanted him to fail.

As the Boogeyman continued to stalk through the woods, he took notice of the greenery that surrounded him. Pitch was not one to concern himself with this planet's weather patterns unless it served as a reminder that certain despised holidays were approaching. The state of this forest, however, was odd. It was only a day after the equinox, but somehow all signs of winter had vanished within hours. Spring had settled on this mountainous area, coating the ground with a rich array of bright flowers and filling the treetops with bushels of healthy leaves. Even though, in this northern climate, winter would usually extend well into April.

It was while Pitch idly wondered about the state of the vegetation, that he unknowingly stumbled upon the reason for this abrupt switch in seasons. It caught his eye immediately, a bright splash of colour against the darkness of the night. Sprawled out in the middle a large bed of flowers, was a young woman. The shock of finding someone simply lying within the vast forest caused Pitch halt in his steps.

For a moment that seemed to last hours, the Nightmare King could only stare at her. The girl was clearly asleep; her closed eyes and the slow rise and fall of her chest made that apparent. Her mouth was slightly open and Pitch could hear her light snoring from where he stood. She was in a position of repose, with one arm extended above her head, the other tucked towards her chest, and her knees slightly bent.

Pitch approached her, gliding swiftly and smoothly across the forest floor as if he were a ghost. The wilderness fell into silence under the weight of his presence, and not even the wind dared to make a sound. This girl, however, didn't even stir when the Boogeyman was in such close proximity to her.

Pitch hovered over her, a pensive captivation clouding over his eyes as he examined every detail of her sleeping form. Streams of silver moonlight showered through the breaks in the foliage that hung above her. Her golden skin was turned to porcelain under the pale glow of the full moon. She wore a sea-foam green dress, made of some flimsy gossamer fabric that fluttered about her knees. Her hair created a halo of flaming tangles around her head. Each strand was entwined with the stems of the roses that served as her pillow. He could imagine the disaster that would be when she woke up. Her pretty face along with her serene expression might have made her enchanting were it not for the way she snored. Something akin to a smile twitched at his lips when he noticed the stray curl of hair stuck to the corner of her mouth.

At first glance, Pitch had mistaken her for an ordinary mortal, unconscious and in the middle of nowhere for some unknown reason. Upon closer inspection, Pitch found that she was one of his kind. He couldn't recognize her as a spirit he had met before, though he could have simply deemed her too unremarkable to bother remembering. It was likely that she was the one responsible for the flowers that bloomed around her and the sudden warmth that had softened the chill of winter. That would make her one of Mother Nature's sprites, young girls assigned to watch over the comings and goings of the seasons and the storms.

She had probably exhausted herself while bringing about this spring within such a short timeframe. Now, she was passed out in a dark forest, all by herself, due to her tireless efforts and carelessness. Mother Nature was not there to protect her, and her deep slumber left her in a state of vulnerability. Perhaps there was more to be gained from this night.

Pitch grinned as he reached out to touch the girl's mind, prepared to twist whatever sweet dreams she was having into horrible nightmares. It would be a lovely sight, her pretty features cringing with fear when he put those horrific images in her head. The enthralment he had manifested when he found this helpless sprite to torment started to dissipate when he began sifting through her subconscious. Pitch frowned upon finding there were no dreams to manipulate. Her thoughts were enveloped in the numbing embrace of darkness, and she seemed quite content to stay like that.

The Nightmare King lowered himself so he would be closer to her, momentarily surprised by the lush softness of the flowerbed beneath his knees. He reached out once more, and once again found that the spring child dreamed of nothing but shadows.

It was a disappointment, but not a defeat. He could easily wake her, watch as she cowered like a wet kitten when she saw him towering over her. He could torture her with her greatest fears once she awoke and revealed them to him, have her screaming and begging for him to stop. She would be too frightened to ever tread outside again, let alone fall sleep in the forest. The idea was intoxicating, and oh so easy to enact when this foolish girl was in such a helpless position.

The malicious grin that stretched across his lips had all his sharp teeth on display. He extended his hand towards her, his long fingers curled like sharp talons. He had intended to wrap his fingers around her throat, forcing her to wake up with a laboured gasp as he crushed her trachea, but he was surprised when his hand merely hovered above her face. There was a foreign emotion that infected Pitch's system, compelling him to remain statuesque. He was alarmed to find himself hesitant at the idea of touching her, of destroying that serenity she engulfed herself in.

' _Or perhaps_ ,' a harsh voice within his mind whispered. ' _You're afraid of what might happen to you if you touch her. What effect could something so bright and beautiful have on a creature of shadow and horror?_ '

A sneer twisted at his lips when those thoughts surfaced. The Nightmare King had no reason to be hesitant, and he was not afraid of some weakness being exposed by this little sprite. He pushed past whatever reservations had taken hold of him and forced himself to move. However, something wouldn't allow him to harm her, some quiet but persistent thing in the back of his thoughts that he refused to acknowledge. So when Pitch's hand lowered towards her, he could only make the slightest contact with her skin as his knuckles grazed her cheek.

All the previous hostility and viciousness that had coursed through him and twisted his features began to melt away like the last remnants of winter. The warmth of her flesh seeped into his frigid and pale fingers, flooding through his veins and causing his limbs to relax against his will. Her skin was soft, unbelievably soft, and the tactile sensation of it caused something withered and hollow within his chest to constrict in a painful way.

Pitch froze in distress when the girl began to move. It was an irrational reaction, given the fact that he had intended to wake her in the beginning. With a content little sigh, the girl closed her mouth and tilted her head, exposing more of the smoothness of her neck and moving her face into his touch.

The air was caught in the back of Pitch's throat, refusing to allow his breaths in or out. This, paired with the pressure that was pushing down upon his chest, made him feel like he was drowning. Rational thought was slowly smothered and quashed completely when he noticed how her caramel coloured lashes rested against her freckle dusted cheeks. Pitch continued to stare down at her, both in bewilderment and fascination. His eyes were drawn to the stark contrast of her sun-kissed complexion against his ash grey skin. He tried to think of the last time he had touched something so bright and colourful, at least without the intention of destroying it. The Guardian's were plenty vibrant and colourful, enough to make his eyes sore when he looked at them, but he hadn't been this close to one of them without a violent fight or a hostile conversation. And something about her brightness was more delicate, less harsh and obnoxious. He would rather face her than the Guardians on any day; it was guaranteed to be less nauseating.

A shaky breath finally filtered through the Boogeyman's lungs as he lightly traced the outline of her face. This girl was definitely a heavy sleeper, which was evident by the fact that she remained motionless as he ran his fingers along her jawline. Pitch imagined what might happen if she awoke to find his face hovering over her own. Would she be afraid, just as he previously wanted her to be? Would she be disgusted and indignant as most spirits were when they encountered him? Would she become just as mesmerized as he was? If she did wake up, he could at least see what colour her eyes were. The pad of his thumb caressed her bottom lip, and the girl let out another tiny sigh from the back of her throat. The gentlest of smiles graced her lips, and he would be lying if he didn't admit it was breathtaking.

Pitch was only snapped back to his senses due to a stray glance at the now lighter night sky. Dawn was beginning to break. The moon still hung overhead, a constant presence that he had no choice but to tolerate. Pitch remembered who he was, what he was, and realized that the Man in the Moon had borne witness to his temporary lapse in sanity. He violently ripped himself away from the girl, as if she had burned him, quickly standing to his full intimidating height.

The girl still slept soundly, having no inclination of his sudden departure or even the fact that he had been beside her in the first place. Pitch glared at the moon, gritting his teeth at the thought of his enemy watching him during a moment of such weakness. He could just see all the Guardians laughing behind their hands if they knew he had been bewitched by a pretty sprite. The Nightmare King was uncertain of exactly what had come over him. Perhaps it was within this spirit's abilities to hypnotize those who looked on her, even while she slept. Whatever the reason, he refused to fall victim to it any further. He turned on his heel and left the girl in her bed of flowers, as he should have done from the beginning.

There was an ache that echoed through the nerves of his hand at the absence of her touch. Some primal impulse screamed within him to turn back, but he ignored it as he slipped into the shadows. He was determined to forget this night, though, a small voice in the back of his mind told him he wouldn't be successful.

Anna woke up from her heavy sleep slowly, disturbed by some strange feeling that something had been taken away. Bleary eyes took in her surroundings, though the observations were delayed in being comprehended by her lethargic brain. It was still dark, but the sky was beginning to lighten, suggesting that dawn would be approaching.

Anna had only meant to take a little cat nap after she exhausted herself by ushering in spring throughout most of Norway. She hoped her sister would not worry after she spent the whole night out, and she prayed that Mother Nature would not be cross. Imagining their reactions made her less inclined to return before the morn.

Anna was about to close her eyes once more before she was distracted by the flicker of a shadow in the spaces between the trees. She lifted her head to get a closer look but yelped in pain when her head was whipped back by a harsh tug at her scalp.

"Ooowww!" Anna whined when her hair was yanked by the plants it had become entangled with while she slept. "Damn it, not again!"

 **Alternate title: Pitch is creepy while Anna takes a nap. So this is just gonna be a one-shot for now, but I may make more chapters. ¯\\_(ツ** **)_/¯**

 **The idea for this was based on this picture drawn by SummerGirl16 - summergirl16/art/Last-Goodbye-Pitchanna-Black-Heart-739025167**

 **A scene based on this art piece by** sandara **on deviant art - sandara/art/hades-and-persephone-2-210920648**

 **Y'all should check their stuff out cause it's hella pretty. :)**


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